


3,643 miles

by trilliananders



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24337375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trilliananders/pseuds/trilliananders
Summary: established relationship; you’d met in college, both education majors. you really love bucky barnes, and nearing your five year anniversary when he proposes you go on a coast-to-coast road trip on summer vacation you seem skeptical and unsure, but he assures you it’s worth it.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	3,643 miles

**New York City, New York – Mile 0**

You hadn’t been serious. Not entirely anyway. Months ago, when you said to Bucky, half asleep, “We should go on a road trip, just you and me.” You remember his raspy voice in reply,

“Oh yeah?” His fingers slowly trailing down your bare spine as you slipped off into sleep.

“Yeah.”

It was something you’d almost forgotten all about until he brought it up five months later.

“Hey, do you think we should rent a car or just take mine?” You were chewing on a pen cap, going over the essays you needed to grade by Monday, a glass of wine by your side. He was sitting across from you, laptop open and a notebook full of different scribbles.

“For what?” You ask, taking a sip of your wine.

“Our road trip.” Like you’d forgotten, like it was something you’d already decided on. You shake your head, confused.

“What road trip?” His brow furrows.

“You said you wanted to go on a road trip.”

“When?” He was silent for a moment, staring at you like you had two heads.

“Christmas… when we were going to bed, you said you wanted to go on a road trip.” He explains simply, “Just the two of us.” You shake your head again.

“I was drunk on Christmas.” As if it explains it away, “We don’t really have the funds to take a road trip across the country, how long would that even take?” Typing a few things into your search bar you sigh, “Two to three months?”

“They went like everywhere,” He defends, “We are just going straight across.”

“I don’t know Bucky…” You sat back in your chair, crossing your arms.

“I’ve been doing the math.” He comes to your side of the table squatting down at your side, “We have more than twice of what we would need in savings, we still have enough to put down on a house next summer.” A kiss to your hand and some puppy dog eyes. “And we will be back in time for Steve’s wedding.” A kiss to your wrist, “C’mon baby, we’re still young, and pretty soon we won’t have time to do stuff like this. We never get to do anything this adventurous, come on.” You sigh, he’s right.

For the last five years you two had been together you were both working full-time jobs and in college. When school ended and you both got jobs you stayed in the shitty studio apartment you’d gotten when you first moved in together on the cheap to save every penny you could towards getting a nice house in the suburbs, something you both desperately wanted whenever the subject of marriage and kids rolled about. Which seemed to be more common lately, more so with both of your parents than with each other.

“You’re not getting any younger.” From both your Mom and his. His younger sister was just starting college and nowhere near continuing the Barnes bloodline, so his Mom was especially needy with you as far as wanting grandchildren. Something you and Bucky had briefly talked about but hadn’t made any real serious strides towards having. Your implant was good for another couple years and it wasn’t a real concern.

“Okay,” You agreed, “We should probably take your car to save some money.” A rental for even a month would be way too much. Bucky grinned, kissing you, again and again.

“It’s going to be so fun.” A kiss. “Really is.” Another kiss. His hand slipping to palm at your breast.

“Bucky I have to grade these essays.” He shrugs.

“Grade ‘em tomorrow.” A tweak of your nipple, his mouth sinking down to your neck, a well-practiced weak spot that never failed to make you shiver.

“Bucky.” You whined, fingers coming to grip his shoulders.

“C’mon baby.” You were weak for it. Played right into his hands and he knew it. You were such a sucker.

…

The last day of classes came faster than you thought, the morning after, bright and early you were getting ready to hit the road. Bucky had let you over plan a little if only to satisfy yourself and solidify the fact that you wanted to go on this trip. Almost 4,000 miles. The road ahead of your seemed daunting but he liked to remind you,

“We have all summer; we don’t need to rush.” Which means if you need to stop for the night, then you needed to stop for the night, but the goal was to drive as close to each major destination as you could before looking for a room at a nearby hotel or motel. Whatever seemed more convenient. You’d packed one large suitcase between the two of you and a bag of snacks and drinks for the times where you couldn’t reach a gas station or got uncontrollably snacky and bored.

“Please don’t forget to water our plants.” You begged the blond. Steve seemed a little done with it.

“I won’t forget to water the plants.” He was going to forget, he was beautiful, but endlessly forgetful. You sigh, stepping into his open arms and hugging him. “You guys be careful, if you run into any trouble just give me a call.”

“We’re going to be fine.” Bucky took his friend into a hug after you released him, “We’ll let you know when we get to DC.” The first stop on the trip.

“Have fun! Try not to kill each other!” You roll your eyes, slipping into the passenger seat and plugging your phone in, getting the GPS set up. Bucky slipped into the driver’s seat, grasping your hand and laying a kiss on your palm.

“You ready baby?” You smile excitedly,

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Your little notebook in your lap. A polaroid camera for the aesthetic. A picture developing on your lap that you’d gotten Steve to take of the two of you in front of the car before leaving. The first stretch wasn’t very long. Just about four hours with mild traffic, but you knew with it would be closer to six, but once you were out of the North East the roads would open up at least for a little while.

You hit traffic trying to get out of the city almost immediately which is why you liked Bucky driving. Driving in the city was always stressful and you rarely ever had to do it, you’d never gotten that NYC aggression and seeing as he learned how to drive on these streets you let him take the first leg. You’d switch with him most likely somewhere in New Jersey, probably before you hit Delaware.

“Aren’t you excited?” He asks you. You had to admit, seeing him so giddy and excited about something further enforced the excitement you had been feeling about this trip. You’d never been anywhere further than the North East, once you broke free of DC you’d be in uncharted territory and it did excite you.

“Of course, I am.” You smiled at him, he leaned over the center console to kiss you, a loving sweet kiss interrupted by a loud honk from the man behind you, the light was green.

**Washington, DC – Mile 233**

“Okay, smile.” Bucky snapped a picture of you standing in front of the National Mall, the Washington Monument tall in the background. The day stayed bright and sunny. With the plan of hitting a museum before dinner, the two of you arrived around lunch time, stopping to grab some food before parking the car and walking around on foot.

You’d snapped a couple pictures of him on your phone while he’d been talking to his Mother during lunch, which you scrolled through while you walked to the next destination. The Smithsonian. The Natural History museum that had currently been doing an exhibit on the late Stan Lee. Something Bucky was excited about.

Copies of old prints. Videos of Stan Lee himself, Jack Kirby, and Steve Ditko. A bunch of first editions in plexiglass containers. His favorite, however, was the character his parents named him after. A life replica of the suit he wears in the comics on display. You took a couple pictures of him with it, sending them onto the group chat you had with him and his family.

His hand was in yours walking through more exhibits, both of you aimlessly walking up to different displays and stopped at the little gift shop for Bucky to look at some exclusive merch they had for the Stan Lee exhibit, including a paperback book about Stan Lee and a large exhibit book with detailed explanations about everything you’d just seen.

“Did you want to drive tonight?” Bucky asked while you were grabbing coffee, “Or do you want to find a room?” You playfully shove him, he playfully shoves you back.

Later your back would find the soft hotel mattress, giggling and a little drunk from the multiple drinks had at dinner. The hum of his lips against yours, fingers plucking on your strings, gentle moans and a hand pressed against the headboard as it smacks against the wall in a steady rhythm.

It was nice. This vacation was nice. And much needed after wrangling teenagers all day.

“I love you so much.” You moan against his mouth, the grind of his hips against yours making your eyes roll in the back of your head. His fingers laced in yours.

You knew that you and Bucky had a good relationship. It’s always been stable and nice and good. You love him and you know he loves you. You’ve never had to question that. Your last relationship, seemed like so long ago now, wasn’t that great. Time never made for each other, a great lack of communication, just being young adults and drinking too much at parties and screaming at each other in the car.

When you met Bucky it was an instant attraction. He was charming, sweet. He’d brought you snacks in the library and helped you study for your history exams. Currently, he was still slowly working towards his Doctorate, wanting to eventually teach at the college you’d both attended. But back then you’d moved in together almost instantly. Not just because the relationship came so easily, but because of finances as well.

Money was a little less tight when someone was sharing the bills with you.

Yeah, you had your arguments. Someone leaves their dishes next to the sink instead of in it. Someone keeps putting off taking out the trash. Someone doesn’t make the bed in the morning. Someone leaves their dirty socks next to the hamper than inside it. But they were small things. Things you could both try to do better. And you have.

Another thing all together was the sex.

You were never someone who said the sex had to be good right away. It takes time to learn someone’s body and really figure out what someone likes and what they don’t like. And while the sex has definitely improved over the years, he knew how to make you cum in less than two minutes and was very proud of that fact, your first sexual experience with each other had his head under your skirt in a dark corner of the school library like you were a Victorian royal canoodling with a servant.

You were red about it for days, thinking about how hard you came on his tongue almost caught by another student looking for records for their thesis. The grin on his face for a week afterward as he enjoyed the hastily decided exhibitionism.

It grew from there.

Bucky loved the fear of getting caught, it was one of his favorite things. You couldn’t even really remember everywhere the two of you had sex of some kind. And when you’d had your second pregnancy scare you decided to get the little implant you still have now.

“I love you so fucking much.” That grind. You loved it and he knew it. He would have your knees hooked over his arms, resting in his elbows, he would be deep, brushing your cervix and grinding his hips against yours, pubic bone grinding on your clit. Your nerve endings on fire. “So fucking wet.” Around him. You could feel his cock throb inside of you and you knew how badly he wanted to move, but he wanted you to beg him for it more.

And you would.

Always.

Your leg was over his thigh at breakfast. Sitting at the bar top of the little diner. “So I think today will just be driving.” Over a piece of toast, “I think it’s like… 10 or 11 hours.” So you’d probably get there just in time to get some sleep. He nods, taking a bite out of his omelet, his thumb brushing your thigh. You were scrolling through your phone. His fingers playing with the hem of your shorts.

“Do you want to drive first?” He asks, “Or do you want me to?”

**Nashville, TN – Mile 890**

The road to Nashville cut through the mountains. Music blasting and windows down, you snapped pictures as Bucky traversed the winding roads that were mostly empty aside from shipment trucks and the occasional other car also travelling to some unknown destination. It was gorgeous out there.

“Could you imagine living out here?” You asked him as you spot a cabin mixed in among the trees on the side of the mountain not too far in the distance. He had his sunglasses on, his hair a little grown out and longer than he usually kept it was whipping around his face.

“Absolutely not.” He laughed. The city boy, through and through, you’d really struggled over deciding where you’d like to buy a house when the two of you decided to actually start saving. He wanted to buy an apartment first, but then a debate of what would be more realistic, what would give them enough living space for what they would be paying. There was a period of time where all you looked at were the pretty brownstones you knew you couldn’t afford, but once the two of you reeled it in and really looked you decided to move closer to where Bucky would be working as a professor.

“It’s bad enough you have me moving to New Jersey.” He laughs. But it was all a jest, he wanted to work for Rutgers in New Brunswick. It was where both of you went to college, after all.

“We should go camping.” You take a picture as you cross a bridge, capturing the rippling mountain water.

“You would hate camping.” He shakes his head, “You went to summer camp for a week in fifth grade and told me it was the worst experience of your life.” You sit back in your seat glaring at him.

“Maybe it would be different now that I’m an adult,” You offer, “And the only reason why it was horrible in the first place is because night one the girls said the cabin was haunted and then I just couldn’t sleep for the rest of the week.” Those little bitches. Bucky full belly laughs, the haunting of the girl was also on top of you getting a UTI and seeing a family of bears roam about outside one day so you couldn’t go outside.

“We are not going camping.” You huff but don’t answer because you know he was right; you’d hate camping.

…

“I don’t even remember the last time we had McDonald’s.” You say while dipping three fries into your small dipping cup of sauce.

“After finals.” It wasn’t as good as you remember it being, but you’d also gotten a salad to split as well. Not being able to quite justify eating strictly burgers and fries. Bucky’s memory was a steel trap, unlike his blond best friend. Bucky could easily recall events, almost in striking detail which really sucks when you promised to go do something and wanted to act like you forgot, he could tell you exactly when you said it.

Like drunk on Christmas when you say you should take a road trip, although this wasn’t a half bad idea.

“You got a 20-piece nugget.” He continues, “You ranted for the entire night about how they only gave you three sauces for 20 nuggets.” A history major who had great memory recall. Tests were very easy for him. The bastard. You used to be so jealous.

“Sounds like something I would do.” You laugh.

Nashville was dark when you’d arrived. Downtown thriving with noise and pedestrians as you drove around, tired, while Bucky looked at local hotels. You’d found a decent one for cheap not too far from where you’d been driving and as soon as that hotel room door shut you slipped into bed. Waking slightly when Bucky slipped into bed behind you, pulling you into his chest. The little wet strands of his hair tickling your cheek as he pressed a kiss there, falling back under.

The Parthenon. A life size replica of the one in Greece. A polaroid or two there. Nashville was gorgeous. Aside from the main city were little outlying towns with walkable shopping and a ton of little restaurants and local coffee shops.

You take a sip of your iced coffee, giving Bucky an odd look as he looks at a wall of cowboy boots. “You’re not buying those.” He turns and gives you a playful glare. “Babe, they’re $300, no. You would never wear them.”

“Maybe I’m going to make them a staple of my closet.” He shrugs, “That’s what that girl you watch says right, make something a staple and work your other clothes around it?”

“She doesn’t mean $300 cowboy boots.” You laugh. “You’re never going to wear those.”

“I could though.”

“But you won’t.”

You’d gone and enjoyed the city, hit a couple breweries and had bar food before doing a little tour of the Grand Ole Opry and walked around the Opry Mills Mall before grabbing dinner. The restaurant had line dancing and pretty decent barbecue. But the one drink they had, some sort of peach and whiskey, went down a little too smooth. And poor Bucky who hadn’t drank quite as much, was propping you up on his shoulder as you stumble down the street back to your hotel.

“We should go to an actual bar,” You whine. “I’m not tired.” You stumble, his arm wrapping around your waist a little tighter.

“You are tired,” He laughs, “Your bedtime was two hours ago.” You stick your tongue out at him but try to keep step. You’re sure he slowed down from his usual long strides for you.

“We are on vacation,” Another whine, “We can stay out late.”

“Baby everything is closing,” He tries to reason, “It’s 2 am.” You gaze around the area you’re in. Stragglers, barely anyone around. It was a weeknight after all.

“But I don’t wanna go back to the room.” He gives you a look, stopping in the street and backing you up against the wall, capturing your mouth against his, his hips grinding against yours. “Bucky…” A whine against his mouth.

“You don’t want to go back to the room right?” It was a darker corner, the streetlight not quite reaching. His fingers unbuttoned your shorts, slipping his fingers into your panties to stroke at your clit. A moan muffled into his mouth. You could feel how hard he was on your thigh. Your mind frazzled and swimming in alcohol still, hand gripping his wrist as his fingers prod your opening, thumb continuing to move in tight practiced circles on your clit. Your legs were trembling as his face pulled away from yours. His forehead resting against yours, eyes connected. “You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you baby?”

 _Fuck._ “Yes.” A whine for a different reason this time, his fingers entering you and immediately stroking your g-spot. Your thighs clamping around his hand as you cum, your loud moan muffled by him capturing your mouth. He worked you through your aftershocks before pulling you tightly into his body, massaging the back of your neck, licking your taste off his fingers.

“C’mon baby,” He kisses you again, “Let’s go to bed.”

**New Orleans, LA – Mile 1,422**

Your head was pounding, eyes closed with a water bottle pressed to your skull. The music soft in the background while Bucky, bless him, offered to take the first leg of the driving. The eight-hour drive that you were sure would take about nine. He was an angel running into the gas station while you pumped the gas to grab you water and medicine for your headache. While not at all laughing about how you fell flat on your ass into the hotel room and begging him to kiss what was now a bruise on your hip and left ass cheek.

“I can’t believe I drank that much.” You groan, taking a sip of your water.

“I can’t believe you drank that much.” Humor in his voice. The asshole. You napped for the first hour or two, before Bucky began to get antsy. Shifting in his seat, trying to stretch his legs out.

“I can drive.” You mumble, coming out of your nap. “I just need my sunglasses.” His hands tightened on the wheel,

“I could probably go another hour or so.” He says. You roll your eyes,

“Next gas station, we’ll switch.” A sip from your water bottle, “You’re obviously uncomfortable.” He grumbles under his breath, but does it anyway, stepping from the car somewhere in Alabama. He stretches and you swear you could hear a couple pops in his spine. After grabbing a couple snacks and some coffee from the gas station you were back on your way, feeling a little more alive than you had previously.

The music a little louder, Bucky pulled out the book he’d gotten at the Smithsonian, the windows cracked. You made it back on the road and towards your destination still 7 hours long.

When you’d been planning this road trip Bucky decided to make a bunch of playlists on his phone, each supposedly for a different kind of mood, but they all sounded quite the same to you. All but one which was just labeled ‘XXX’ and had such hits as ‘Pony’ by Ginuwine and ‘Sex with Me’ by Rihanna. Which is strange because you’d never had a sex playlist normally, but suddenly he thinks you need one to play on speaker on his phone next to the bed in hotel rooms.

The one he had playing originally was something mellow, without lyrics. Thoughtful to your raging hangover, but you needed something to focus on. Something you could sing, badly to, but sing to keep yourself from going crazy on a stretch of highway you felt like you’d been on forever. Which you kind of were. It was one straight highway for the entire 533 miles it would take to get you from Nashville to New Orleans. That little pitstop just dipping you off the exit and then putting your right back on.

It was brain numbing honestly and you tried to go as long as possible before switching back. Bucky had fallen asleep sometime an hour or so after you started driving, book folded over his thumb and seat tilted back.

You felt bad. You kept him up so late last night and then he’d let you sleep in while he got ready. Bringing you breakfast and coffee and waking you up slowly. You thought back to him in the hotel room, the soft kisses and whispers. He’d gotten you in the shower with the bribe of giving you a massage after, which he did. You glance at him in the rearview, his arm thrown over his eyes. You could go a little longer.

The first thing the two of you did getting into New Orleans was stop for a drive thru daiquiri before finding what hotel you’d be staying in for the night.

Bags down you sip on the strawberry liquor slush, sinking into the sheets of the hotel room. “Take it easy.” Bucky laughs, stealing it from you and taking a sip. “Don’t want a repeat of last night.” You stick your tongue out at him and he leans over and kisses you, your fingers moving to tug on his belt loop, pulling him over to the bed. Sitting up you continue to kiss him, beginning to palm him through his jeans.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” Mumbled against his lips as you begin to work on his belt. “I really appreciate it.” Looking up at him through your lashes as you free him from his briefs. His breath catches as your cool tongue licks the tip, mouth stained red. Wide and flat against his head. Tapping it on your tongue before circling around the tip and sucking it into your mouth, his fingers twisting in your hair, not pushing but just holding.

You drip spit down on his cock, using your hand to spread it down his length before sucking him back in your mouth, beginning to bob your head to meet your stroking hand. Your other hand moving below to fondle his balls.

You watch his head fall back, a gasp as his fingers tighten in your hair. You feel the spongey tip of him brush the back of your throat, holding yourself there for a moment before pulling off and stroking him root to tip. He bent over meeting your mouth, kiss passionate and lusty. When you part you sink your mouth back onto him, moaning.

His hips gently thrust into your face, you know he’s getting close, his breaths coming out in short pants, the barely there thrust of his hips when he’s craving more friction you oblige to, speeding up your movements and you gently tug on his balls.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby.” His head tossing back and a groan as he begins to empty himself into your mouth. You work him through his aftershocks, his hips giving one true thrust right at the end before you swallow. His mouth meeting yours in a satisfied hum.

You went to the French Quarter for dinner. A place with a live jazz band and good food. The atmosphere unmatched. The French Quarter was much less of a drunken mess than Bourbon Street itself, that beast to be tackled a different night. You had a little bit of a pregame with those daquiri slushes before dinner. Buzzed and comfortably riding it throughout. You’d sipped on a rum and coke while listening to the jazz. Just enjoying the night. Tired from driving but satiated from the food. Your hand rubbing your belly you were so full.

“I love you.” His fingers twisting in the stray hairs that fell from your clip. You smile at him, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I love you too.”

You stayed mostly sober while he drank on Bourbon Street. You let him sing horrible karaoke at Cat’s Meow and drug him away from his forced politeness with about six other woman and at least five men. And you let him lean on you and babble while you waited for the uber back to your hotel.

“You’re so fuckin—hiccup—pretty.” Wet on your ear, slobbering and you laugh. “Like so fuckin pretty.” His mouth sloppy on your cheek.

“You’re going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.” And it would be your turn to take care of him.

That day had been really nice, a little rainy but you’d gotten beignets and coffee at Café Du Monde and bought a pack of the beignet mix and coffee cup to bring home. You’d seen the Madame LaLaurie house which you were sure you’d be talking to Peggy about later, you’d walked around Jackson Square in the light drizzle and even made your way to walk around Audubon Park. You’d been surprised when Bucky said he wanted to go drink on Bourbon Street seeing as you’d been up for a while, but you obliged and now you were rubbing his back as he told you he was nauseous, his arms wrapped around the toilet bowl.

“I don’t feel good.” He blubbers.

“I know baby.” The tile was cold, hard, and uncomfortable. He gagged. And you sigh, wondering if you should just help him throw up so he would feel better. But he finally vomited. You got him cleaned up, helped him brush his teeth. Fed him some water and helped him out of his clothes. His arms wrapped around your waist as he sat on the edge of the bed. Mumbling words you couldn’t understand as you tried to pull his shirt off. His pants long discarded.

“C’mon baby.” You tug on the shirt stuck in his armpits. His arms weakly lift from your body, letting you lift the shirt off him and laying him under the covers. His fingers twisting in your shirt, “I’ll be right back.” In the bathroom you quickly wipe up the toilet, flushing the extra mess and grabbed the trash can, bringing it out to his side of the bed and resting it on the floor near his head, his arm hanging off the bed and already snoring.

The next day when you were eating breakfast, he drank heartily on a Bloody Mary, trying to get the hair of the dog and feel more alive.

“I can’t believe you let me drink that much.” A groan over fried green tomatoes. You roll your eyes,

“I didn’t… the guys buying you shots when my back was turned did.” It was a laugh really, how Bucky wouldn’t realize someone was flirting with him. So out of touch from being in a relationship, Bucky had been quite the charmer when you first met but had a really hard time noticing when someone else was flirting altogether. A marvel, but it’s true.

“But they were so nice.” He reasoned making you laugh.

“They really were.”

**San Antonio, TX – Mile 1,965**

Another 543 miles, which 541 were spent on the same road. Honestly it was probably the worst part. Driving in mostly a straight line for hours with long stretches of road in between each stop. But that’s how this part of the country was. It was hotter down here for sure, or maybe just because you were getting deeper into summer.

San Antionio was sweltering, you could feel your shirt sticking to your back as you took in the air conditioning of the hotel lobby you were currently in. The electronic keycard slipped across the counter to Bucky while you waited a step behind before shifting your bag back on and following him to the elevator.

The hotel was a lot like every other hotel, but the only thing you were really worried about now was the shower. Bags dropped and the small toiletry case in hand you slipped into the shower, letting the water run a little cold to cool you off before turning it a little higher to be more comfortable. You can hear Bucky enter the bathroom, the shower curtain being pulled back as he entered behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and dragging you back into his body. Just holding you for a minute.

“Are you okay?” He asked. Pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Yeah, I think I just need some alone time.” You hadn’t talked much during the drive from New Orleans to San Antonio. You were used to getting time apart from each other. Not that you didn’t like spending time with him, but sometimes you just wanted to be alone and right now you were getting that itch. He hums, his arms tightening for a moment more before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“After the shower, why don’t you take a nap before dinner, hmm?” He reached over grabbing the soap, “I’ll go grab us dinner and bring it back,” beginning to wash, “We can eat in the room tonight, sleep in tomorrow?”

“That would be nice.” You’d finished your shower, slipped into comfortable clothes and flipped through the local channels on the tv, finding something for background noise as Bucky left the room.

You would get like this sometimes.

Bucky was always a little more adventurous. Back in college you probably wouldn’t have done half the things you did if it weren’t for him. He was far more outgoing; he had more friends. He was always dragging you out of first your dorm, and then your shared apartment. He didn’t need the alone time like you did and at first he was a little hurt by it.

Like you didn’t want to spend time with him, and it wasn’t that. You just needed a little bit of time to yourself to just be on your own and decompress a little. But he kind of knew when you needed it now. When you got a little quiet. When you needed a little space. And he found himself enjoying the time that you spend apart. You were sure he was enjoying his little walk,

“I get to kind of quiet myself a little bit.” He told you, “I always feel like I’m going all the time.” There were often times where you’d spend time together in the same room just not talking, a comfortable silence as you watched tv and he graded papers or just laying in bed reading next to each other. You felt like you didn’t deserve him sometimes.

He always catered to your social anxiety and your stress and you try to do the most you can for him, but there’s always that fear of it not being enough. Like maybe you’d wake up one day and he’d decide that it just wasn’t a good fit anymore.

What would you even do then?

A quick nap, only thirty minutes or so. Then you lay there a little bit, listening to the tv ramble on some sitcom you didn’t recognize. You hear Bucky come in, a paper bag of food in his arms, your eyes meet his and he smiles.

You didn’t deserve him.

“I found this food truck,” He sets down the two glass bottles of soda on the little table in the room. “The guy who runs it, his family used to own a restaurant here in San Antonio, but they were shoved out of business by this fucking corporate bastard who wanted the space for fucking condominiums, kept raising his fucking rent until he couldn’t afford it anymore.” A kiss to your lips, “How was your nap?”

“That’s terrible.” Your hand on his back as you sit at the table, him across from you. “It was good, I think I needed that.” He starts laying out the food. Tacos, empanadas, a little container of radish and limes. Extra cilantro. Little sauce cups of spicy salsa. A hot container of grilled peppers and cactus. A small container of extra rice. “This looks really good, thank you.”

He brings your hand up to his lips, kissing it. “Are you okay?” He asked, biting into the empanada sprinkled with queso fresco. You nod, massaging his arm before digging into the tacos.

“Yeah baby, I’m okay.”

You had to see the Alamo, obviously. The big limestone building that was pivotal in the Texas Revolution and was now a history museum. But you were more excited for the river walk. Not far from your hotel a bunch of small restaurants and shops, very touristy and brightly lit, but beautiful on the San Antonio River. Tomorrow would be the Japanese Tea Garden and the Natural Bridge Caverns, but you always liked a relatively easy day right after travelling.

You found yourself really looking at him for the first time in a long time. The little wrinkles by his eyes when he smiles that weren’t there five years ago. How often he licked his lips. How often he caught you looking at him. You were sure you looked lovesick. You found yourself resting your head on his shoulder a lot. Your hand in his as you walked around, the steady motion of his thumb moving across your hand a soothing balm for your growing anxiety.

“What’s going on?” He’d ask you later. “You’ve been really affectionate today.” His hands around your waist in the elevator heading up to the hotel room.

“I just love you, that’s all.” His hands moving to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You meet his kiss, humming against his lips. The elevator doors ding and you walk to your room,

“I just want to sleep.” You hear him sigh behind you as you begin to get changed.

“No, what’s wrong?” Sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you as you changed into your sleep shorts and tank top. His hand reaching out to yours and dragging you into his lap, your legs on either side of his, you wrapped your arms around his neck. “C’mon baby talk to me.” You felt silly.

“I just… feel like I don’t deserve you.” A laugh in his chest that made you feel dumb.

“I’m sorry baby,” His arms squeezing you a little tighter, “I didn’t mean to laugh.” His fingers tracing your spine. “I feel like I don’t deserve you sometimes, you’re always so patient with me. You pack my lunch for me every day.” He laughs, “You do cute things like bring me coffee when I’m studying or make me those amazing chocolate peanut butter cookies during finals. You know I love you,” He pulled back, your face coming from resting on his shoulder, his hand coming up to cup your jaw, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip. “I think we both like to take care of each other, there’s nothing wrong with that baby, you always take care of me so I try really hard to take care of you.”

“How are you so perfect?” A hum as you meet his lips, soft and sweet.

“How are _you_ so perfect?” He falls back against the bed, dragging you down with him, his hand still rubbing your back. You softly kiss him and close your eyes, finding comfort in laying on his chest. “I think this trip was a really good idea.”

**Four Corners Monument – Mile 2,936**

“How could you have not checked that we were low on gas?” You were trying to not be angry. You were really trying not to be angry, but when there’s desert on either side of you it’s kind of hard not to be. It was sweltering and no gas also meant no AC.

“I checked our gas at the last stop,” Bucky was in the same boat, hands on his hips, “I think— “he sighs, “Maybe the gas gauge is broken.” You groan in frustration, stepping away from the car and pulling out your phone.

“Can you get a signal?” To call his AAA. A moment or two of him on the phone, before he hung up and turned to you.

“They said about two hours.” You huff, sitting down in the passenger seat, door open and arms crossed. You’d woken up extra early to make this 15-hour drive. You kicked at the hard ground with the sole of your sneaker, trying to calm down while Bucky paced a little.

“I knew we should have rented a car.” You glare at him from your seat.

“If you wanted to rent a car why would you ask me if we should take your car or not?” He didn’t answer. “Don’t blame me for this.” A sigh,

“I’m blaming myself.” A kick to his tire, “I’ve had this car for ten years now, we shouldn’t have taken it.” You worry your bottom lip, checking the time on your phone.

“If you knew we shouldn’t have taken it, why did we?” You didn’t mean for this to turn into an argument. But it somehow turned into a screaming match on the abandoned stretch of road. Not even over important things, things so insignificant like how he’d been taking his shoes off in the car and the stink of that or how you smacked your gum out of boredom. The heat leading the two of you to just explode for no good reason.

Two long strides, that is what was between the two of you. That’s all it took for him to grab you tightly and crush you against his chest, mashing your lips together. You moan into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair for a harsh tug. Your back hit the side of the car, his fingers fumbling with the button of your shorts, tugging them open and roughly dipping his fingers into the wet heat between your thighs. Two fingers circling your opening before slipping inside and stroking your walls, thumb rapid on your clit.

Your hands fumble with his belt, your legs already shaking as you stroke his length, hot and hard in your hand. He removes his fingers from your now aching sex, “I need you so bad.” Shorts and panties shifted down on your hips, stuck on your knees, he turns you around pressing you to the car, feet kicking your legs open and you could feel his tip prod your entrance.

With one thrust he was home, his hips slapping against yours furiously, your hand drifting own between your thighs to strum on your clit, the pleasure growing. His hand rips yours away, replacing it with his.

“God you’re so fucking good.” Hot on you ear, “So fucking good baby.” That stretch and burn of him, on top of the practiced fingers on your clit brought you over almost immediately. A moan ripping from your lungs, as your clit became overbearingly sensitive. Your hand met his between your legs, trying to stop the steady motions, but he wouldn’t. His other hand left your hip and wrapped around your throat, dragging your back to his chest. “You’re gonna cum for me again.”

You were a mess, whining as two of his fingers slipped into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue, eyes rolling back in your head as you felt yourself gush around his cock. His hips giving a half a dozen sloppy thrusts before he moaned into your neck, emptying himself inside you. You catch your breath against him before your mind unscrambles and you realize that you’ve got cum dripping down your thighs in the middle of the desert.

“I think we needed that.” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek before wiping his cum off your thighs with a tissue, bundling it up and tossing it into the plastic bag you’d been using for trash and tying it.

You snort, buttoning your shorts, “Always the romantic.” He grins, taking a sip out of a water bottle before passing it to you.

“It’s warm.” He warns. You scrunch your nose, taking a sip of the warm water, sweat dripping down your back.

“How much longer?” He checks his phone and looks at you with a defeated expression.

“An hour.” You had to change your shorts.

…

“This is it?” Just a pavilion, one on each side of the square and the little circular concrete stepping area and a large plaque on the ground. He’s laughing, the stress of everything that just happened ending in this.

“You can be in four states at once.” You shrug.

**Grand Canyon Village, AZ – Mile 3,165**

It was busy and a little crowded at the Grand Canyon. Which was kind of to be expected. A lot of people taking pictures with their families and couples taking pictures much like you’d been planning to. But the view.

It took your breath away.

You’d seen different environments on this trip that before you’d never been exposed to. The North East was heavily wooded, and everything was tightly packed together. Having lived in New Jersey and then NYC it was very much the same. You marveled at the mountains on your way to Nashville and when you first hit actual desert you pulled the car over to take a real look. The swamps and muggy weather in New Orleans you hadn’t gotten enough time to explore, but the first time seeing Spanish Moss was unreal.

But this was something else entirely.

Bucky caged you in against the metal gate keeping you from getting to the edge, his chest to your back and rested his head on your shoulder. “This is incredible.” He agreed.

You snapped a picture on your polaroid.

And probably about a dozen pictures of the two of you together. A nice couple from Idaho even took a picture on his phone and one on the polaroid and in return you took their picture and gifted them a polaroid of themselves.

You’d left around dinner time. Ordering in and spending the night in the room after shoving your laundry in the hotel laundry room.

“We’re only eight hours away.” You grin. “Eight more hours until we are at the Pacific.” It feels unreal that you’re almost to the opposite end of the country, but whenever you pulled up the map on your phone that’s where it showed you.

Driving had been getting a little more difficult the closer you got to your destination. You were just itching to just get there already and you were not excited for the drive tomorrow. You hadn’t touched the bed yet, still covered in a thin layer of dust, you could feel it between your toes, but the hunger led you towards eating the sandwich and salad combo from the shop the two of you ordered from before getting into the actual shower.

You sigh, fingers tangled in Bucky’s hair. His mouth attached to your clit in a gentle suck. One hand drifting up to play with your nipple, rolling it between his fingers. Your hips grind against his face. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Almost, almost. His hand was fisting his cock the heat of it making your toes curl, cumming on his tongue. A few more quick tugs had him spilling over the tile. The best thing about hotel bathrooms was the water never went cold. Still hot and steamy as he pressed a kiss to your hip before standing. You bury your face in his neck, wrapping your arms around him as he pulled you close.

A soft rock side to side under the stream.

God you fucking love him.

Driving was honestly a hassle. You couldn’t go more than two hours without wanting to switch or stop, which as you grew closer and closer to California you began to see more houses and more people on the road around you.

His hand on your thigh as you finally crossed the California border, feeling a little more positive about finally getting to the end of the road before having to turn around.

**Anaheim, CA – Mile 3,643**

You read about California traffic, but it was unreal in person. The car hadn’t moved in a good five minutes you’re sure. How is this even possible? The gridlock because you’d taken an extra hour at lunch and gotten to California around rush hour.

“That was a mistake.” You sigh, rubbing your eyes. “We should have just hit a drive thru.” He rubbed your thigh affectionately.

“Doesn’t matter now,” He laughs, “We’ll get there.” You know he’s right, but you still feel a little string of irritation with yourself for not just pushing through a little more. “Are you excited?” He’s grinning, a squeeze on your leg.

“I’m very excited.” And you were. There was so much you wanted to see in California. And you both specifically set aside money to spend a day or two at Disneyland having gone to Disney World with both of your families before. Your Mom being a little obsessed, you were going to have to bring her back something for sure.

You had to get In-N-Out. That was a given. You’d almost stopped for it back in Tuscon but reasoned that you had to wait until California. “This is so good.” Bucky picked up some fries you had to order ‘animal-style’ just because it was an option. And it was so good.

“This was worth it.” Over a mouth of burger. Bucky nods,

“So worth it.”

Your toes dipped into the ocean. A hot and beautiful day. Bucky sat back a couple feet laid out on a blanket. You look back on him, propped up on his elbow, smiling at you. The water was warm, and it was unreal that it wasn’t actually green. At the Jersey shore the water is green from all the algae. But not here. It was actually blue.

His arms wrap around your waist, walking you both deeper into the water. The waves rocking gently over your bodies. The sun hot on your skin.

“This was so worth it.” Your legs around his waist in the water, his finger’s toying with your swimsuit bottoms. “Don’t.” Stern. It makes him laugh.

“Don’t what?” Fingers brushing on your labia through your swim bottoms.

“Bucky…” A harder press directly against your clit. Your eyes looking on the shore. “Stop.” Dragging yourself away from him you made him laugh harder, treading water to get back onto the sand, tossing a playful glare over your shoulder. “Pervert.”

A polaroid of the gate, Disneyland.

“The castle is small.” He says. Main Street similar to Disney World itself, but the castle was noticeably smaller than Cinderella’s castle in Orlando. But it was just as magical and just as expensive. You split a hand dipped corn dog and ate dole whip in the afternoon between rides.

It was a fun, but tiring day and left you both a little sunburnt on your nose and cheeks. You’d slept in the next day, barely able to pull yourself out of bed and your legs were sore from walking about ten miles yesterday. You UberEats breakfast to the room, well… lunch. And watched the weather forecast while trying to decide what to do that day, settling down on going to the Santa Monica pier seeing as the day was already half gone.

Bucky began acting a little strange halfway through your stay in California. He seemed anxious and more fidgety than usual. But every time you asked him about it, he shrugged it off as having too much caffeine or just being really excited to be going to go see the Hollywood sign or stopping by the Cecil Hotel, “Just to see it.”

It wasn’t until the night before you were going to start making your way back did you discover the reason why.

Sitting on the trunk of his car, facing the ocean. The food truck where you’d just had fish tacos and chips with guac off to your right, the only real light as you watched the sun set. He offered to go to the other food truck nearby and grab some ice cream. Homemade stuff boasted by the chalkboard sign on the side of the truck.

With his return and the comfortable quiet that came with watching the sun set over the ocean, you feel him shift to your side, fumbling with something before slipping off the trunk, his back to you.

“Bucky?” You watched him take a deep breath and turn, in his hand was a ring box.

…

Bucky had thought about proposing a million times.

Every time you’d bring him coffee at the library. Every time you’d turn down the bed before the two of you went to sleep. He’d almost proposed Christmas, but you’d wanted to drink so he held off.

When you brought up this road trip he started thinking about it, really. And decided that he would do it sometime during this trip.

He kept trying to figure out when he wanted to do it. That night of amazing sex in DC. The night you were babbling and drunk in Nashville. Maybe when he looked at you in that jazz club, your face lit up by the stage lights in New Orleans. He’d almost proposed in San Antonio when you were sweet and needy. 

He thought about it during your argument heading towards the Four Corners Monument but changed his mind. And at the Grand Canyon there were just too many people around. But here it was just the two of you, your car farther away from the crowd gathered by the food trucks. You’d just watched the sun set over the ocean. He knew it was now, he had to do it.

He wanted to do it.

“I had a whole thing… planned out.” He stumbles over his words, “I’ve thought about this every day for years now, I think. And I just… you’re the love of my life. You’re the only person I want to spend it with, and I know we haven’t talked a lot about getting married and I’m ruining this, but… This trip has really confirmed everything I already knew that I felt and I don’t think there’s any better time to ask…

Will you marry me?”

…

The ring felt strange on your finger but was easily ignored as your fingers tangled in Bucky’s hair. The windows in the car were cracked to keep them from steaming up, a practice well versed by both of your exhibitionist tendencies. The goal was to make it back to the hotel, but this abandoned stretch of highway would do just fine.

On his lap in the backseat you grind your hips against his, aching for it. Fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shorts and feeling his hands squeeze your bare ass while you work them down past his knees. A hover to adjust before sinking down.

Wet but not completely prepared, the stretch and burn a little intense. His mouth moving passionately against yours as one hand slipped between you and starting carefully stroking your clit. Your hands meet the head rest, using it as leverage to raise and lower yourself on his dick. His hips slip down on the seat a little to help you, thrusting up to meet your hips.

“I’m not gonna last,” He moans against your mouth. You start to gush around him, whimpering as you grow closer and closer to release. His hand that had been on your waist coming to tangle in your hair and tug, those practiced fingers of his between your legs finally bringing you over. He was quick to follow. Panting as you remain in his lap, feeling him soften, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you in tightly to his chest. Soft and loving,

“This was a really good idea.”


End file.
